


Love is the oasis of the soul

by doglesbian



Category: AFK Arena (Video Game)
Genre: (or second), F/F, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, TW suicide mentions, thats what the teen rating is for, the angst is healing-y, trans lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 15:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doglesbian/pseuds/doglesbian
Summary: The fireweaver finds her distant muse, and the flame that grows between them is brighter than any she's ever made.





	1. They meet again

It had been a good few years since the day Satrana had been brought into the oasis temple. Satrana had been holding onto the memory of it ever since, clinging to it as if she might lose it if she didn’t think of it every day. Her thoughts were mostly of the tiger girl, who she knew now as  Antandra. Even though she knew little, she owed everything to her, and something about her made it easy to keep her in mind. She dreamed of Antandra in day and night, drawing her in scripts and notes, extrapolating the fuzzier details. It was a bit of an obsession, but she didn’t care. Her image inspired Satrana’s dances of flames, encouraged her as she learned to speak again, a distant, mysterious muse.

Except she was real. Physical, reachable. She could find her, thank her, see where it went after that. The temple priests wanted to keep her in the walls, but she had a dream to follow, and servitude to the temple after her past wore down on her, desperate to finally taste full freedom. 

When news of the Hypogean menace reached them, she found her escape. Her fire weaving rivaled some of the best magicians, and she’d be an invaluable resource in the all out war for the world itself. It was a strong argument for letting her leave. After all, if the menace destroyed everything, there’d be no temple left to stay in.

Of course that was a lie; maybe if she felt like it later she would join the fight. It sounded a bit dire after all, but she had business to attend to. A debt to repay.

Her clues were limited, and her drawings could be inaccurate. But the temple guard had special weapons, and in the danger of the Scorched Expanse there was doubt that she would abandon them. A sketch of the carvings and emblems of her shield could be shown to people, and she could pray someone had seen her.

It wasn’t that easy, though. She could be anywhere, could have even left the vast home of the Maulers, travelled to the edges of the earth.

Or, Satrana thought as she pored over her drink at a bar, a week into her traveling search, she could be dead. The world was harsh, she could have died in a battle or to the elements. Or, she thought as she gulped down another drink without noticing, buried in her own mind, she could have ended it herself. She was familiar with the concept; before she got her voice back she’d considered it often. To lose everything you knew, be exiled, be scorned not even despite but  _ for _ kindness, sounded like a deep pain to bear.

She’d downed 4 glasses unwittingly in her focus, and the thought of Antandra being dead was too much to add. It made her start sobbing into the counter, trying and failing to control herself.

A voice next to her, gruff but warm. “Are you alright?” Looking up through wet, blurry eyes.

It was her. She looked different from memory for sure, but it was still enough to tell. Satrana didn’t know what to think or feel. How could she be so lucky? And less lucky, why at this embarrassing moment out of any?

“I-” She tried to speak, but choked on her dried up throat and tears.

“You need water for your throat. And probably food to soak up that alcohol.” Without a second word or asking, she barked an order to the bartender, making sure to stress urgency.

There was a lull of quiet as Satrana busied herself with her food. Antandra looked slightly nervous. It seemed like she didn’t know what to do; wanted to help more but only knew what she had done so far.

Satrana clears her throat. “Antandra?”

Antandra looks at her with the most confused eyes possible, and Satrana felt meek under her glare. It takes a moment for recognition to happen, and Antandra quietly puts her hands on the table, staring at them. “You’re drunk. I’m willing to talk, but you should sober up first so you have a clear head.”

Satrana leaps onto Antandra and hugs her tight. “No! I’ve waited so long to meet you, to talk! I don’t want to be silenced now!”

She notices Antandra seems frozen, and pulls back slowly to see her fur bristled, one hand white-knuckled on a knife on her belt.

“I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that.”

Antandra slowly untenses, lets out a shaky breath, releases her grip. “It’s fine. Just be more careful. Still a lot of muscle memory in me.” She starts to tap her hand rhythmically on the counter, trying to release some energy.

Another silence as they both calm back down, and Antandra is the first to speak, sort of. “I’ll let you talk like you said. What do you want anyways?”

Satrana, despite her best efforts of imagining them meeting, doesn’t know where to start. “I think most of all, I want to apologise… That day all those years ago, that wasn’t fair to you. You didn’t deserve that… you saved my life and gave me so much that day, it’s so wrong that that’s what you got in return.”

Antandra sighs. “I’ve been telling myself the same thing for a long time.” When she notices the frown in the corner of her eye, she adds, “But it’s nice to hear it from someone else. Er, really nice. I appreciate it.”

The frown turns to a big smile quickly. “I want to thank you too. I really admire your courage and will in what you did, and I can’t thank you enough for how you helped me. Even though I resent them for what they did to you, I still learned a lot there. I learned to speak again, which was good, because I used to not because of, um- uh-” Her throat closes up, memories flooding back unwanted,  _ stupid, stupid, why did I bring that up _ , ears flattening, curling into herself.

Antandra doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to emotions or comforting people. It’d almost been bred out of her, and the sliver that remained was enough for her to kind of work, but not without awkwardness.

She does remember something from a book she read, though. She sticks her hand out onto the table, in front of Satrana, a silent, gentle offer for comfort. Satrana slowly accepts, and they squeeze back and forth with fingers interlaced until Satrana can talk again. “Sorry…”

“Don’t apologise. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, or can’t or whatever.”

Satrana uncurls, hand still tingling with the leftover feeling of being held.

For the time being they’d run out of serious topics, tension flowing away and their chatter becoming more lively and simple. They caught each other up on their adventures, and Antandra finally remembered to ask: “Wait, what’s your name?”

Satrana talked about her boring but educational time in the temple (although dodging any actual talk of the temple) and Antandra talked about what she’d done with her time post-exile. The lack of compassion for others extended outside of the temple, a pervasive attitude throughout Maulers and the Expanse, but she found welcome spots, charity work or battles for causes she thought were valiant. No matter the amount of crooked people who told her she was ‘weak’ and ‘wasting her time’ she persevered, because the thanks she received from some people and the pride of abandoning that mindset was worth it.

Antandra asks where Satrana has been staying during her travels, and she rambles about outdoor shelters and motel stays.

“Really? I’d think a kind and pretty face like yours could get a night in better beds, honestly.”

Satrana’s heart thrums, feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest, and Antandra sees and thinks this is a negative reaction she’s getting. “Was that rude to say?”

Satrana stutters out reassurance, “N-no, it was really nice, just surprising!”

They decide that Satrana should get a night at Antandra’s small home nearby, and they walk home from the bar together, Satrana lucky that she’d sobered enough to walk correctly.

_ Although, _ she thinks,  _ it might have been nice if I couldn’t walk, because maybe Antandra would have to carry me or at least hold my hand. That would be nice. _ She almost casually reaches for Antandra’s hand as they walk, but refrains for now.

As she forces herself to refrain, she blushes.  _ Why do I want to be intimate with this girl so much? Why do I love her? I feel silly for feeling this so fast, but… She is really nice, and I admire her, so it makes sense a little. But I want to sweep her away and cherish her and thank and love her forever and oh jeez am I alright? _

She’s snapped out of thought when they reach Antandra’s place. It’s small, with only a tad of furniture and amenities. It had a decent kitchen, at the very least. 

With not much to sit on, they were relegated to the floor, pressing their backs into whatever they could find. It wasn’t the best, but having someone to share it with and talk to made it more bearable in a way.

The night approaches and the sun sets as they make cheerful chatter and play card games on the floor, the air full of comfort and softness. But girls get tired, and girls need sleep, no matter how much they want to try playing a 10th round of blackjack in the dark.

Satrana frets about where to sleep, but Antandra reassures they can share her bed.

“Unless there’s something wrong with that.” It becomes painfully yet hilariously clear that Antandra doesn’t know that sharing a bed is considered intimate, and the fact of her earlier comment being said so casually makes a lot more sense all of a sudden.

Satrana doesn’t bother to explain that to her, though.

Laying next to her, in the dark bedroom, so quiet, Satrana can’t sleep. She can’t not say it. It feels so heavy on her chest and she doesn’t want to repress it so she just spills it.

“I think I’m in love with you, Antandra. If it’s too fast for you or you don’t want that, that’s fine, but… it’s on the table.”

Antandra is silent, and for a moment it almost seems like she’s fallen asleep, but her voice, unusually small, rings through.

“Can I hold you?”

Satrana gives an awkward, surprised “yeah,” and before she knows it strong arms are curled around her, comforting, warm. She feels like she might fly away in excitement now if it weren’t for those arms holding her down. It’s almost overwhelming, but the softness and safety of the bed and the hold and Antandra are too relaxing to let Satrana panic. All she can manage is a shuddering sigh.

Antandra speaks again, her voice still small, unsure. “I’ve always wanted to try this. Loving someone, I mean. I’ve been told love is weak and wrong and stupid so many times but it feels too right for me to ignore, and I’ve loved the people around me in a way but I’ve always wanted more, and you’re amazing and brave in such beautiful ways and so understanding and I can’t think of anyone else that I’d want to try with. I love you too, Satrana.”

Neither of them know what to say, sure if they tried to speak more they’d drown in the emotions being spilled. After a long time, Satrana is the first to try again, a simple request. “Can I brush your hair with my hands?”

Antandra gives an affirmative grunt, shifts so Satrana can reach better. “It’s so long…” she says dreamily, enraptured with the soft strands between her fingers.

“Yeah, I’ve been growing it out for a long time after I left. There were a lot of things I started doing once I left, actually, lots of fleshing out being a girl and all. When I came out I threatened enough people with a spear that they used the right name but there was still constant lectures about ‘wasting my time’ and ‘not meaningful for my job.’ Feels a lot better now that I get to exist for myself.”

Satrana gets a bout of rising laughter, so powerful that she shakes Antandra on top of her. She sees panic on Antandra’s face and worms words in between laugh-breaths. “No, it’s, I’m trans too! It’s, a funny surprise!”

She works her way back down from laughter and starts to play with hair again. “A nice surprise, too.”

“Yeah.” Satrana can hear in the tone that Antandra is exhausted, from being in bed and opening up so much all at once and indirectly begging for relaxation for a moment. So, they go quiet, up until Antandra starts to… purr? Snore? Growl? It’s a small, sleepy noise that vibrates throughout her so that Satrana starts to feel it too. Under the weight and gentle rumble she falls asleep before she can take her hand out of Antandra’s hair, one arm curled around the tiger girl and the other hand still tangled in long white locks.

After so long in servitude to people, places, and ideas, Antandra and Satrana find freedom together and in each other, content as can be.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a good few years since the day the two girls found their freedom, and Satrana didn’t need to try to remember it because she got to see her love every day as a reminder. Sometimes they would have to be off for errands or some such, but the portraits of them both kept on the wall were enough. Satrana wanted to draw an updated version of her old sketches, after all. Antandra had tried to make a portrait too; she didn’t find drawing to be her thing in the end, but the heartfelt (if a bit scribbly) art was still proudly displayed in their home.

One art form they had started together and kept with was dancing. Satrana’s flame dances were graceful and dazzling, although she kept the actual flame put away for most performances. When Satrana suggested they try a duet, Antandra found it resembled the flowing movement of combat and thus easy and fun. She was glad she could take that bit of her past and make it less violent. She still liked fighting, when it was done for good reasons, but letting it become her sole hobby hit too close to her hard childhood.

They’d considered showing their skills to a venue of some sort, but it had become a personal, intimate thing for them, so it remained mostly in closed, comforting quarters.

Satrana had learned to cook as well, claiming it to be repaying her debt to Antandra for the food given at the bar. Antandra repeatedly told Satrana that no debt had to be repaid and she shouldn’t feel obligated for anything, but she let this single, joking action slide. Mostly because her cooking was  _ really _ good. Apparently when you can make the flame move yourself things get cooked extra evenly.

Even with all the healing done together, scars still remained, but understanding was an endless resource between the tiger and fox girl. Satrana was careful to signal before sharing a touch, and Antandra kept her voice from getting too loud, and both tended to every little need as well as they could.

Overcoming those were only some of their difficulties, however. They still remained in the Expanse, and while not from everyone they still received jeers and rude comments and sometimes actions from people they met with, either for the compassion they shared with others or the deep love clear between each other. Many knew Antandra to be a strong fighter as well as Satrana a powerful fire weaver, so most left alone, luckily. And they didn’t mind it all too much; they’d rather live together in exile or hatred than ever be apart. It was a burden they were more than ready to bear.

They don’t talk much of the temple anymore, except in venting or moments of healing, but they had one small idea that they held onto. Antandra had suggested burning down the temple for its insolence, somewhat jokingly, but Satrana who had seen the wonders within reminded her the books in it had done nothing wrong. Her alternative was: kick everyone out one way or another, and make it their own. A guardian and librarian together and in love, relaxing in the cool oasis and the vast space of their new home. It was mostly a dream and comforting thought, but Antandra had definitely once or twice considered figuring out exactly how to do that. Maybe some day.

Years passed and passed and passed again, their passion and love unfading, their wills ever-strong, their dances twirling and weaving a tale of their story of freedom and connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> saw the story between these two and I couldn't not do a big gay thing out of it; had a lot of fun and I'm pretty proud of it!!


End file.
